The Man Who Lived
by justin.jossart
Summary: The Goblet of Fire is enchanted so that only wizards and witches who are of age are eligible to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, so when Harry's name comes out of the Goblet, it's magic ages him three years, giving him the maturity, skill and body of an adult wizard. Unable to relate to his friends Harry tries to cope with the change while competing in the tournament. Harry/OFC
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **The Goblet of Fire was enchanted so that only wizards and witches who are of age are able to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, so when Harry's name comes out of the Goblet, it's magic ages him three years. When Harry recovers, he finds himself with the body, maturity and skill of a fully grown wizard. No longer able to relate to his friends and classmates, Harry tries to cope with the change while competing in the harrowing Tri-Wizard Tournament. Answer to the "Letters Challenge" by Mathias Nightlord01. Harry/OC (Beauxbaton Female) Adventure/Romance. Rated M for language and some sexual themes.

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Man Who Lived

"The Champion for Hogwarts is… Cedric Diggory!" The majority of the Great Hall broke into a polite applause, while the Hufflepuff table exploded into cheers and whistles. Diggory, looking both slightly embarrassed and pleased at the attention gave a jovial wave and disappeared into the small door behind the staff table.

The headmaster waited patiently for the Great Hall to quiet down before continuing, a small smile twitching at the corner of his beard. "Now, as all of you undoubtedly know, the Champions are not the only students who get to compete in the Tournament. The Inter-School Quidditch Cup and Dueling Trophy are once again up for grabs. If you wish to compete in either event, please inform your Head of House by the end of next…" Dumbledore trailed off, distracted by the Goblet of Fire. It had resumed shooting flames, though they were higher and more volatile than ever before. A slip of singed parchment spiraled slowly downward and Dumbledore neatly snatched it out of the air with a dexterity that belied his advanced years. The Great Hall was deathly silent as the ancient wizard's eyes widened as he read the name aloud. "Harry… Potter."

Every eye turned to the Gryffindor Table. There was a collective gasp as the boy in question started writhing and screaming in obvious pain. His entire body started to glow, dimly at first, then slowly brightening to an almost blinding aura of blue light. The Gryffindors scurried out of the way as the headmaster and the rest of the staff rushed to him, though all of them were at a loss. Due to the unknown nature of the magic affecting young Harry, any spell they used could do more harm than good.

The staff was saved from its indecision by an abrupt end to both the light and Harry's shouts of pain. The boy lay still, face down on the stone floor by the table. Dumbledore, fearing the worst, gently placed a wrinkled finger on Harry's neck. Sighing in relief at feeling a steady pulse, the headmaster stood and calmly addressed the Great Hall, which had congregated in a semi-circle around the Gryffindor table. (Some of the younger students had decided that standing on the Ravenclaw benches would afford them the best view.)

"The feast is over. Severus, Minerva, please take Harry to the Hospital wing immediately. I will be along as soon as I am able. Students are to return to their dormitory at once, that includes you, Ms Granger." This last comment was aimed at Hermione, who had started to follow Professors Snape and McGonagall to the hospital wing. Before Hermione could open her mouth to protest, Dumbledore had already turned and was sweeping toward the antechamber that the Champions had entered. Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff followed.

Harry Potter awoke to the sound of a quiet, but heated argument. He tried to tune out the voices and go back to sleep, but they were steadily getting louder as the argument grew more volatile. Sighing, Harry opened his eyes and found he was (once again) in the Hospital Wing. Glumly thinking that he had at least made it to Halloween before being put under the care of Madame Pomfrey, Harry finally turned his attention towards the other occupants in the room.

"Igor, we've been through this. It is a magically binding contract; he must compete or lose his magic entirely. Would you like to be responsible for The-Boy-Who-Lived suddenly becoming a squib?" Professor Dumbledore was standing between Harry and a very angry Professor Karkaroff. Professor Moody flanked Dumbledore while Snape skulked in a corner. Madame Pomfrey was conspicuously absent.

"Albus, he's awake," Snape's soft voice cut through the tension of the room as the teachers turned towards Harry. Harry couldn't help but notice that Dumbledore wouldn't look directly at him, while Moody's magical eye, normally spinning in every direction, was focused on his face.

"Igor, we'll discuss this later. I have an..." Dumbledore paused as if searching for the right word, "injured student to attend to." Karkaroff turned and swept out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Dumbledore turned back to Harry, his eyes missing their usual twinkle. "How do you feel? You gave us quite a fright."

"I don't know," Harry said honestly, his voice raw. "I feel odd, but not in a bad way." Dumbledore nodded, prompting Harry to continue. "My throat's sore, and I feel as if I've spent the last ten hours in Quidditch practice, but besides that I'm not in any pain. Why am I in the Hospital Wing?" Harry dimly remembered the previous night's events. Cedric was made the Hogwarts Champion and then Dumbledore had started talking about the Inter-School Quidditch Cup. Everything else was a blur. Harry rubbed his head in frustration.

"There was an issue with the Goblet of Fire, Harry. For reasons as yet to be determined, the Goblet put you forth as a fourth Champion. Do you have any idea how this happened?"

"No sir." Snape scoffed, but Dumbledore silenced him with a pointed look. "I was with Ron and Hermione all day. I have no idea how my name got in there and I don't want to compete."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry Harry, but that is not an option. It doesn't matter how your name was entered into the Goblet, or how a powerful artifact was Confunded to believe that there are four schools in the tournament. When your name came out, you were placed under a binding magical agreement. To not compete is to lose your magic forever." Harry's eyes widened. Lose his magic? He couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like. It would be worse than never having magic in the first place. He tried to picture going back to Privett Drive knowing about the wizarding world but being unable to cast the most basic of spells. The headmaster seemed to read his thoughts. "I see you understand why that is not an option."

"Sir, I understand that my name came out of the Goblet, but you still haven't told me why I'm in the Hospital Wing. Am I hurt?" Harry didn't feel hurt, in fact his throat was feeling a lot better and a lot of the soreness in his muscles was fading.

"Not exactly," Dumbledore was choosing his words carefully. "You see, Harry, the Goblet is enchanted to only allow witches and wizards who are of age, that is to say seventeen, compete in the tournament. When you were chosen, two very powerful enchantments were in direct conflict with each other. The Goblet had to choose you as a Tri-Wizard Champion, but you were not of age."

"What do you mean, I _wasn't_ of age?" Harry demanded, his voice suddenly sharp. He wished the headmaster would get to the point.

Moody suddenly spoke up, "Albus just give him a mirror. It'd be easier than explaining. He's not going to believe it until he sees it anyway. I know I wouldn't in his shoes." Dumbledore nodded, conceding Moody's point.

"Try not to be alarmed, Harry," Dumbledore said as he flicked his wand, conjuring a handheld mirror and passing it to Harry.

. Harry gasped as he stared at the mirror. _This can't be real! It must be some kind of joke!_ The boy, no, man, in the mirror had his messy raven hair and green eyes, but that's where all similarities between him and this doppelganger ended. First of all, the man in the mirror had a strong jaw line coated in coarse stubble. Harry would put him in his late teens. "What the bloody hell happened to me?" he demanded, never taking his eyes off the mirror.

Dumbledore seemed willing to overlook Harry's swearing. "We can only guess. I believe that when the Goblet was forced to name an underage wizard, its magic did the only thing it could to not contradict its previous enchantments. It aged you approximately three years. As such a thing is completely unprecedented, we don't know what other side effects you may experience. What we do know is that the aging is irreversible, at least for the time being."

Harry nodded. "Because the Goblet would just re-age me again?" Harry suddenly realized that his voice was much deeper than he remembered.

"Exactly so. Furthermore, the ability to permanently reduce a person's age is beyond the capabilities of even the most knowledgeable Potions Masters. Even the Elixir of Life simply extends one's life span past their normal days." Dumbledore noticed Harry's crestfallen look. "However, since your premature, ah, maturity was magically induced, I will search for a way to reverse it. You have my word that I will do everything in my power to counteract this tragic accident."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said, trying to sound more grateful than he felt.

"You are quite welcome, Harry. Now, I have other duties to attend to, and I'm sure that Madame Pomfrey is anxious to tend to her patient. Please see me in my office after dinner." Without another word, Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody strode out of the room, passing a harried-looking Madame Pomfrey. The nurse made her way to Harry's bed, pulling out her wand.

"Now Harry, I'm going to be casting some diagnostic charms to make sure that you are fit." Harry nodded and let his head hit the pillow. _This is a nightmare. What are Ron and Hermione going to say, not to mention the rest of the school? Ah well, no use crying over spilt milk. Might as well accept it and move on._ He waited patiently until Madame Pomfrey finished her examination, answering her questions. Yes, the soreness had passed. No, he wasn't in any pain. After about half an hour Harry had started to tune out the matron. He had a lot of energy, energy that needed to be directed _somewhere_. Finally, the Healer admitted that she couldn't find anything physically wrong with him. He was a perfectly healthy seventeen year old.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I see no reason to keep you here. If you notice _anything_ out of the ordinary, come see me immediately. Do you understand?" Harry nodded and practically leapt out of the hospital bed. The moment he did, he noticed something was different.

"Am I taller?" Madame Pomfrey, who was making notes on Harry's chart, just nodded and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

No one noticed Harry slip into the Gryffindor common room. He had expected the Creevey brothers to be waiting for him, but when he stepped through the portrait hole (Which seemed to have gotten altogether too small in Harry's opinion.) they didn't even give him a second glance. It didn't occur to him until later that they simply hadn't recognized him. In fact, no one was really paying attention to him at all, which suited Harry just fine. He inconspicuously made his way up the stairs to one of the boy's washrooms, locking the door with a tap of his wand. He definitely didn't want anyone walking in on him while he tried to catalogue all the changes that he had gone through over the previous twenty four hours.

Harry stripped his robes and stepped in front of one of the large mirrors. _Wow... I guess I never really thought I'd turn out so... big._ While he had always been slight of build, more wiry sinews than bulky muscles, Harry didn't think that anyone could call him 'scrawny' anymore. He stood at least three or four inches over six feet tall, and was layered with thick, sculpted muscles. Granted, he was no Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he could probably make Vin Deasel look like a pansy. His abs did that V thing that he heard that girls went crazy for, though he couldn't remember exactly what that was called. _I don't really look like a seeker anymore. I could probably play keeper or chaser, though._ Looking down, he realized that his muscles and stature weren't the only things that had grown. Smirking slightly, Harry redressed himself, finding that his robes barely passed his knees. _Maybe McGonnogall and Dumbledore will let me make a special trip into Hogsmeade._ If they didn't, well that's what he had the Maurader's map and his dad's cloak for. _Damn! I should probably owl Sirius. I think that this whole fiasco qualifies as something "out of the ordinary." And hopefully I can find Ron or Hermione. But first... DINNER!_

Dinner had just started as Harry walked into the Great Hall, but Harry could see Ron shoveling food as if his life depended on it. Sitting across from Ron, Harry tried not to look directly at the human garbage disposal his best friend had reduced himself to. "Hey mate, how was class?" Ron looked up and gaped at Harry, his mouth dropping open. Harry tried to ignore the sight of his best friend's half chewed food.

"Harry? Merlin's beard, McGonnogall wasn't kidding when she said that you had 'grown,'" He made quotation marks to emphasize his point. "Are you feeling okay?"

Harry nodded. "I'm getting kind of sick of people asking me how I'm feeling. If I wasn't feeling alright I would say something." Dean and Neville, who were sitting beside Ron, looked over at Harry, their eyes bulging slightly. Harry wished that they would stop staring at him.

Dean spoke first, leaning in close, "So Harry, how did you get your name into the Goblet?" He was speaking in what he obviously thought was a low voice, but several students turned to look at them.

"I didn't. I don't know how my name came out of the Goblet. Dumbledore seemed reluctant to share his theories on the subject." Dean looked doubtful, so Harry continued. "I'm so supposed to talk to him after dinner. Maybe he'll tell me more then." Though his classmates still didn't look convinced, Harry didn't particularly care. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he was actually looking forward to competing in the Tournament. He finished his meal, deflecting questions from several of his classmates about his physical changes and the Tournament. He noticed that Parvati and Lavender kept looking at him and giggling. When they realized that he had seen them, both girls blushed and giggled even harder. Draining the remnants of his pumpkin juice, Harry stood to leave. Ron followed him.

"So where's Hermione?" Harry asked as they walked through the large doors of the Great Hall.

"Library," Ron replied. "I think she's looking for some type of magical cure for what happened to you." Harry nodded, deciding to go see her after his meeting with the headmaster. Ron dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So how _did_ you get your name in, and why didn't you tell me how to do it, too?"

Harry sighed. "I already told you, Ron. I didn't put my name in the Goblet." He could tell that Ron was going to pursue the subject, but Harry held up a hand. "Look, Ron. I'm not going to keep trying to convince you. If you're my friend you'll believe me and drop it, if not then I reckon you can shove off. I don't have the time or patience to deal with this." Ron looked both taken aback and angry. "I'm not trying to be mean, but I have a lot on my plate right now. So either back me up or get out of my way."

Ron's face grew red and he stopped dead in his tracks. Harry kept walking without looking back. If Ron wanted to play dumb games, that was his business. As he walked up to the sixth floor, Harry's mind turned towards Hogwarts' "guests." He didn't really care for the few Durmstrang students he had met, Viktor Krum included. They all seemed like a rather unfriendly lot. He also had the distinct impression that Krum was the kind of man who believed his own press. The Beauxbatons, on the other hand, seemed to be rather elegant. Even the guys carried themselves with a grace that few Hogwarts students possessed. Fleur Delacour, Beauxbaton's Champion for the Tournament, was particularly beautiful, but Harry had the feeling that her beauty was enhanced by some sort of natural magic. Harry figured that she was probably part Veela or Nymph. _You've never even seen a Nymph, _ Harry scolded himself, but for some reason he could picture one clearly in his mind. He also somehow knew that his mental image was spot on. _Maybe I saw a picture of one in one of my school books_.

This train of thought took him all the way to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. He opened his mouth to give the password, but he realized that Dumbledore hadn't given it to him. However, the gargoyle hopped aside before Harry could start rattling off a list of all the sweets he could think of. Perhaps the headmaster had told the statue that Harry was expected. Shrugging at his good fortune, Harry climbed the spiral staircase and knocked on the ancient wooden door at the top.

"Come in, Harry." Harry acquiesced, and wondered, as always, at the shiny, delicate instruments scattered throughout the office. One in particular caught his interest. It was made of silver, and consisted of a bar situated on a triangular stand. The bar was slowly spinning. _Shintarum_, the word popped into Harry's head, and he immediately knew that it was the proper name for the instrument. He also knew that it was used to detect magical signatures within a limited radius. The Ministry of Magic had once used them to detect whether a young witch or wizard was a squib or not. The more powerful the magical signature in an area, the faster the silver bar would spin. _How in the name of Merlin did I know that? I _know_ that I've never read about a shintarum in any book._ Deciding that he would deal with this troubling revelation later, Harry looked to the headmaster, who had apparently been conversing with Ludo Bagman. Bagman sat in one of the spindly chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that if the chair had not been reinforced with magic that it may well have crumpled under Ludo's girth. McGonogall stood at Dumbledore's side, staring at Harry intently.

"Please sit down Mr Potter," McGonogall said, her face unreadable. Harry nodded and sat by Mr Bagman. The ex-beater smiled at Harry.

"Well, Harry, I must say this is completely unexpected! We've never had a _fourth_ Triwizard Champion in the history of the competition." Ludo Bagman said. Harry was slightly uncomfortable with the way that Bagman stared at him. It reminded him of how his uncle had once stared at a large stack of money.

"So I've heard. I'm assuming I'm here to discuss the rules of the tournament since I missed the one last night.?" Harry asked Dumbledore, trying to ignore Bagman. Something about the large man rubbed him the wrong way.

Dumbledore nodded. "You are correct, Harry. Mr. Bagman will explain to you the date and time of the First Task, as well as your responsibilities as Champion." Harry looked back to Bagman.

"Well, the First Task will take place in two weeks on November the Fifteenth at 2 p.m. You'll need there a half hour early to receive further instructions."

"Alright, but what is the First Task?"

"The First Task is designed to test your courage under fire," Mr Bagman chuckled as though he had made some hilarious joke. "You will be facing the unknown with an unknown objective."

"Okay," Harry replied. "By the way, nobody mentioned how many Tasks there are. And what other responsibilities do I have?"

"There are six Tasks altogether, each one approximately a month apart from the other. As for extra responsibilities, you will need to be present tomorrow for the Weighing of the Wands. It's an ancient tradition where your wand will be tested for defects." Harry nodded, and Mr. Bagman continued. "The press will be there, so be prepared to answer some questions. You'll also need to open the Yule Ball on Christmas Eve."

"The Yule Ball?" Harry arched his eyebrow, seeing where this was going.

Bagman nodded, "It's formal, so you're going to need dress robes. The Champions and their partners open the ball, so if you don't know how to dance, I'd start learning."

"I'll get on that. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes. The hosting school's Champion will be expected to host a small gathering for the other Champions the evening before each task. Any questions?" Harry shook his head. " Then I guess I'll be going. Good luck with the First Task, Harry." Bagman stood, the spindly chair groaning as if relieved to finally be free of its heavy burden.

"Mr. Bagman, is there any way I can get a rule book for the tournament?"

Bagman looked surprised at the request but nodded. "I'll owl one to you." With a final jovial wave, Bagman threw a pinch of floo powder into Dumbledore's fire and disapeared. After he had gone, Harry turned his attention to Dumbledore and McGonogall. Both were looking at him oddly. McGonogall spoke first.

"You handled yourself very well Mr Potter," she said hesitantly. "I'm impressed."

Harry shrugged. "Thanks, professor. So is there any headway in the investigation into how my name got into the Goblet of Fire?"

"I'm afraid not, Harry. It is obvious that you are not the culprit, however," Dumbledore replied shaking his head. "The power and skill required to tamper with the Goblet are beyond any student here." _Probably most of the staff, too,_ Harry mused.

"I think this is another attack by Voldemort, sir." Harry ignored McGonogall's wince. "The Dark Mark at the World Cup can't be a coincidence. Something bad is going to happen if we don't stop it." Harry didn't know where his certainty came from.

"I will look into it, Harry. You must trust me," Dumbledore said, looking directly into Harry's eyes. Suddenly, Harry knew that the headmaster was _reading his mind_. Harry's anger flared at the invasion of his thoughts. He had learned how to deal with the press making his every bowel movement front page news, but his thoughts were his private sanctuary. He'd be damned if he'd let Dumbledore or anyone else start rifling through his memories like a book.

"Must I, _sir_?" Harry glared at Dumbledore, who didn't look abashed in the slightes at being caught. He calmly returned Harry's gaze, saying nothing.

"Mister Potter! You will give the headmaster the respect he is due! Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention." McGonogall, who had missed the byplay was almost sputtering in indignation.

"That will not be necessary, Minerva."

"But Albus," McGonogall began to argue, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"Harry has had a very difficult day. We should let him get to bed. Anything else you'd like to add, Harry?"

Harry considered asking for permission to go to Hogsmeade to buy new robes, but decided against it. He wanted to go to Diagon Alley, and knew that neither teacher would allow him to travel so far from the school. Instead, he simply shook his head and made his way from the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was the only one who noticed the _shintarum_ whirl rapidly as Harry passed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**A/N: Sorry about the shortness of the chapter. I had meant for this to be posted as part of Chapter 1, but I realized that a 7,500 word chapter could get kind of wordy. This chapter is light on action, but the next one (which should be posted within the next day or so) is going to MORE than make up for it. Harry's got the Weighing of the Wands, a date, and the First Task in Chapter 3. But don't worry, this chapter has some important stuff, too! You'll finally meet the female lead of the story and more!**

**A/N 2: Matthias Nighthawk wanted me to let you guys know how I am deviating from his challenge. I'm pretty much following it to the letter, just not in the way that he intended. Harry will still be stronger, more confident, and more capable in my story, will eventually get a new wand, and will have a romance with a Beauxbatons witch who is not Fleur.**

**A/N 3: If you have any recommendations for my story, please let me know in the reviews! I know I want to have six tasks, but I'm going to let the readers come up with one or two of them, and I want to know if you guys want to see Harry on the All-Hogwarts Quidditch team and/or Dueling team.**

Harry liked the library. He loved the smell of the old books, mixed with the acrid scent of fresh ink. He also enjoyed the silence. Madame Pince was meticulous in maintaing a silent working environment. Furthermore, everyone who was in the library had something to do. They were too busy to stare at Harry and whisper about him behind their hands. There was a final reason why Harry liked the library: He could almost unerringly find Hermione there.

Sure enough, Harry spotted a head of bushy hair hunched over an ancient tome. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a book quite so thick. Hermione was oblivious to Harry's arrival, only noticing him when he had sat across from her.

"Hello, Harry, be with you in a moment," she said, not even looking at him. Harry, who was used to waiting for Hermione to finish whatever chapter she was reading, shifted aside a hefty stack of books so he could tilt his chair back and lay his feet on the table. He turned his attention to his friend, and suddenly realized that Hermione would grow into a beautiful witch, if she cared to. He was certain her bushy mane could be tamed with only moderate effort (effort which Hermione didn't seem to see the point in giving) and she really did have beautiful eyes the color of liquid chocolate. However, Hermione was one of the only girls in Gryffindor who blatantly refused to wear makeup. Furthermore, she didn't really have confidence in her appearance, which was a turn-off for Harry. He liked a girl who was sure of herself and would give him a challenge. He had the feeling that Hermione would fall for the first guy who gave her any romantic affection of any kind. Harry intended to make sure that Hermione didn't date someone who wasn't good enough for her. _Not that there's much I can do about it. Once Hermione's made her mind up about something, she's convinced that she's right. And she calls me stubborn._

Hermione finally looked up from her enormous book and quickly focused her chocolate eyes on his emerald ones. Harry was relieved to see that she didn't gape at him like his classmates had at dinner. "So, what's it like being seventeen?" She asked, her voice neutral.

"I'm not seventeen, 'Mione. I just look like it. I'm still the same old Harry." Harry laughed, but he wasn't entirely sure of his honesty. After all, he had taken charge of the conversation with Bagman in Dumbledore's office, something that he didn't think he would have done fourty eight hours ago. Furthermore, there was this sudden influx of knowledge about things he had never seen or even heard about. Hermione seemed to sense his uncertainty.

"Harry, becoming of age, which is precisely what the Goblet did to you, is more than just getting bigger. Growing up is about learning, becoming more mature. I'd be surprised if the only thing the Goblet changed was your body."

Harry's eyes flashed. "You think I don't know that? Dumbledore mentioned that other side effects might be possible. I think I've already discovered one or two of them." Hermione looked at him curiously, but Harry decided not to elaborate. He didn't want to talk about it until he knew more.

"Harry, I know that you're going through a lot, but if you know something you need to tell me. If I know what I'm looking for, I might be able to find out more. Right now I'm looking for a way to get you out of the Tournament, and I might be making some headway." Hermione was surprised and a little scared at the mutinous look on Harry's face as she finished speaking.

"I'm getting tired of people telling me what I _need_ to do. Did it ever cross your mind that I might _want_ to compete in the Tournament? I didn't volunteer for it, but now that I'm committed I'm not going to back out like a coward. I'm a Potter, not some cur with my tail between my legs." Harry didn't know where this familial pride was coming from, but it felt right. He should be proud of his heritage and live up to his name.

Hermione didn't seem to get it. "Harry, the Tournament is dangerous; you don't know enough magic to actually compete. At best you'll survive and look foolish. At worst you'll be dead." She blinked away tears. "I couldn't bear to lose you, Harry," she finished in a low voice.

Placing his hand upon hers, Harry looked her in the eye. "I don't intend to die, 'Mione, and I don't intend on looking foolish. I won't lie, this tournament is risky, but it can't be more dangerous than anything we've done before. But I'm sick of risking my life for the school and Dumbledore without getting any credit. This is my chance to show everybody that the Boy-Who-Lived is more than a scar and a one-time immunity to the Killing Curse. I need to do this."

Harry helped Hermione shelve her books, and they walked back to the Gryffindor tower in silence. As neither Harry nor Hermione were really ones to talk about nothing, this silence wasn't uncommon when Ron was absent. This time, however, Harry could tell that something had changed. There was a tension in the air between them, something that hadn't happened since Hermione had gotten Harry's broom confiscated the previous year. Hermione seemed troubled, and Harry didn't want to fight with her again. He was already in the middle of a row with Ron, and Harry didn't fancy being on nonspeaking terms with both of his best friends.

Hermione fled up the girls' staircase as soon as they crawled through the portrait hole, muttering a quick "Goodnight, Harry." Trudging up the boys' stairs, Harry pushed open the door to the fourth year's dormitory. He was relieved to see that Ron's curtains were already shut tight. Pulling off his robes, Harry set an alarm for early in the morning with a charm he couldn't remember learning.

Harry awoke to his wand buzzing on his nightstand. He rolled over and muttered the countercharm to shut his alarm off. Deciding that a run around the lake would wake him up better than breakfast, Harry started digging through his trunk for anything that resembled workout clothes. _I'll pick up some more Muggle clothing when I go to London today. I'm sick of wearing Dudley's old shit, _he thought as the closest thing he could come up with was an old shirt and pair of shorts that used to be Dudley's. They used to be too big for him, but both were now very snug, especially the shirt. It was so tight that Harry could clearly count his six pack through it. Pulling on his trainers, Harry left the Gryffindor tower, passing some sixth year girls who oggled him appreciatively. Giving them a quick wink, Harry decided that he'd find and introduce himself to the brunette after classes.

Three laps around the lake, a hundred pushups and a hundred crunches later, Harry was drying off after a quick shower. He had Potions after lunch, but was free until then. Harry was determined to escape the castle and make his way to Diagon Alley as soon as possible, and he had come up with a plan while he was on his jog. Harry went out to the grounds, picking up a fist sized rock on his way to the Whomping Willow. A quick throw of the stone at the knot at the Willow's base reduced it to a normal, if rather ugly, tree. Wriggling his way through a small hole, Harry half-crawled down the low passage and emerged from the Shrieking Shack. Without bothering to walk down the hill into Hogsmeade proper, Harry stuck out his wand. A moment later, the Knight Bus flashed into existence with a loud _bang_.

The conductor, a man Harry didn't recognize with dark brown hair and a ruddy complexion, asked for his payment and destination, but didn't seem interested in a proper conversation, for which Harry was grateful. After a short, if exhilirating, ride, Harry stepped off the bus and into the Leaky Cauldron. Assuring Tom, the barman, that he was simply passing through, Harry strode out the back and quickly tapped the wall with his wand. The bricks folded in upon themselves as Diagon Alley came into view.

After a cursory examination of the contents of his coin pouch, Harry decided that a visit to Gringotts was necessary, so he made that his first destination. Many of the shops he passed were just opening, their sleepy looking employees rolling open cages and turning over "open" signs. Harry was relieved to see that Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occaisons had a bright orange sign in the window declaring that they were ready for business. Harry decided that getting measured for new robes could be taken care of before a trip down to Gringotts. By the time he had finished dealing with the goblins, his new attire would be ready for pickup.

Two hours later, Harry was standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron with his wand in the air, clutching his purchases. He had his new robes, as well as a wrist-mounted wand holster, a couple of books on Occlumency, and new owl treats for Hedwig. _I really need to write Sirius sometime today_, Harry thought as he boarded the Knight Bus. A quick flash and bang later, Harry was once again in front of the Shrieking Shack. After worming his way back through the secret passage, Harry stunned the Whomping Willow again and made his way back up to the castle.

After dumping the new books and wand holster in his trunk, changing into robes that actually fit him, Harry went down to lunch. Ron was sitting with Fred and George, and pointedly ignored Harry's greeting. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. _Probably in the library_, Harry thought as he resigned himself to a meal by himself. Only moments after he had sat down and reached for a drumstick, the two Gryffindor sixth years he had ran into before his jog sat by him, accompanied by a gorgeous girl in periwinkle blue robes. Harry immediately recognized the girl as one of members of the Beauxbatons delegation.

"Harry, right?" the brunette Gryffindor who had caught his eye that morning asked. Harry nodded, so she continued. "I'm Jasmine Landry and this is Rose and Aimee." She motioned towards the other Gryffindor, a pleasently plump redhead, and the Beauxbatons witch in turn.

"Nice to meet all of you," Harry said, keeping his eye on the tall Beauxbatons blonde. He couldn't help but compare her to Fleur Delacour, the only other French witch he had met. Both were gorgeous, but while Fleur had a sort of ethereal beauty, Aimee had a more "girl next door" look, aided by her honey blonde hair and saphire eyes. She was taller than average, and Harry was acutely aware that she was curvy in all the right places. "So how are you enjoying England?" he asked her.

"I like it, even if it is very cold," Aimee replied with a heartbreaking smile that showed off her pearly teeth. "'Ogwarts is not what I expect though."

Harry arched his brow. "Really? What did you expect?"

"I guess I 'ad thought it would be tidier. While it is very clean, it is also messy at ze same time, what with ze moving staircases and unused classrooms. At Beauxbatons, we do not 'ave any empty classrooms; everyzing zere 'as a purpose. If a staircase moves, it is for a very good reason. Also, 'ere at 'Ogwarts, it seems zat ze only way to get around is with ze secret passages. It is not so at Beauxbatons."

Harry nodded, conceding her points. "Do you miss your school very much?"

Looking thoughtful, Aimee seemed to choose her words carefully. "Sometimes, but I am very glad I 'ad ze chance to visit England. I do regret not becoming school champion, though." She laughed, and Harry decided it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Jasmine, who looked slightly annoyed at being largely ignored in favor of a foreigner, spoke up.

"So Harry, do you have a date to the Yule Ball yet?" the pretty Gryffindor, giving him her best smile.

Harry knew that she was fishing for an invite, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to take her yet. If she had asked before he had met Aimee, he would probably be making plans to meet in the Gryffindor common room on the night of the ball at the moment. "Not at the moment, how about the three of you?"

Jasmine and Aimee both shook their heads, but Rose, the redhead, nodded. "My boyfriend is taking me. He's a sixth year Hufflepuff. Jeremy Wellington?" He could see her brown eyes brighten just from mentioning his name. _She's got it bad_, Harry mused.

"I haven't met him, but I don't know too many 'Puffs." Rose seemed to take this as an invitation to start listing all of Wellington's qualities, both good and bad. Harry nodded in the correct places and politely asked pertinent questions, but was quickly getting bored. Finally, Rose paused to take a breath, and Harry used it as an opportunity to turn back to Aimee, who had seemed to be tuning out the Gryffindor.

"So Aimee, since you don't have a date to the ball, how would you like to go with me?" The blonde in question seemed startled, but she smiled. Jasmine glared at her furiously.

"I don't know. Would you make it worth my while?" She asked, her smile turning sly.

"Most definitely. The question is, would it be worth mine?" Aimee laughed at this.

"Oh 'Arry, you 'ave no idea. But I do not want to get all dressed up for nothing." Though her tone was severe, her eyes and smile told a different story.

Harry was really enjoying the back and forth flirting, he didn't know where this sudden confidence with the fairer sex was coming from, but he decided that it was definitely something that he should explore further. "Going with a Triwizard Champion isn't enough? At the very least you'll get to dance in the spotlight with a handsome wizard."

"And what wizard would zat be? Will you be willing to introduce 'im?" Aimee teased, her smile growing even wider. Neither she nor Harry had noticed that Jasmine had left in a huff, dragging Rose with her.

"I could arrange a meeting. How about tonight, around seven? There's this great spot by the lake that this wizard loves. It's nice and peaceful."

"Tell 'im I will be waiting for him in ze entrance 'all at seven zen. 'E better not be late!"

"I don't think there's any chance of that," Harry replied with a grin. Aimee smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and then left with a wave. Harry was sure that she exagerrated the roll of her hips as she walked away, but he didn't mind in the slightest.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was towering over his classmates in the dungeons while they waited for Snape to grace them with his presence. Ron was chatting with Neville, and Hermione had yet to show up. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that she was avoiding him. The one time he had seen her in the hallways today she had quickly darted into a girls' bathroom after looking at him like he was already dead and she was mourning him over his corpse. Harry hadn't tried to follow her; he had enough of those looks from Professor Trelawney, thank you very much. Harry was broken from his musings by a high, drawling voice.

"Look, everyone! The giant oaf is here! I always knew that palling around with Hagrid would rub off on him!" Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy making his way through the small crowd of students surrounding the door. Malfoy wasn't done yet, however. "Now, Potter, I'll have you know that the bushes around the main entrance are looking a tad scruffy. I assume that they will be taken care of promptly? The grounds won't tend themselves you know!" Malfoy smirked, evidently impressed by his own wit. Several of the other Slytherins laughed.

"Malfoy, do you really think it's smart to insult a guy who can bounce your head off the floor like a basketball?" Malfoy didn't get the referenece, but the Muggleborns in the crowd started snickering.

"Straight to physical violence, Potter? Did the Goblet replace your brains with muscles?"

"Nah, you're just not worth the time it would take to draw my wand. Now shove off, Malfoy, before I break you in half." He took a threatening step towards Malfoy, and his Crabbe and Goyle stepped between them, although they didn't seem too thrilled about it. As big as the boys were, Goyle barely reached Harry's shoulder, and Crabbe several inches below that. Harry gave each a threatening look, and they backed off, leaving the slender Malfoy unprotected. It appeared that Crabbe and Goyle's courage failed as soon as they were confronted with anything resembling a fair fight. Malfoy, who seemed to decide that the altercation wasn't going to end well, drew his wand, but before he could cast so much as a single hex, the doors to Snape's dungeon boomed open. Malfoy eyed Harry angrily as he filed into the classroom with the other students, but Harry didn't even give him a second glance.

Professor Snape was sitting behind his desk. "Today we are brewing antidotes. Instructions," he waved his wand at the blackboard behind him, "are on the board. I will be choosing one student's antidote to test at the end of class. Perhaps that will motivate you to pay attention to what you're doing, but I doubt it." Snape's eyes lingered on Harry as he spoke, and the Gryffindor knew that _his _antidote would be the one tested. However, Harry had an ace up his sleave.

"Professor, I just wanted to remind you that I will be leaving at two for the Weighing of the Wands ceremony. It won't be over in time to come back to class," Harry said respectfully, trying to hid his smirk. "Did the headmaster have a chance to tell you yet?"

"Of course he informed me, Potter," Snape lied, not even attempting to hid a snarl. "I had merely forgotten." The greasy git turned to the rest of the class. "Class, since we don't want Potter to miss such an _important _and _interesting_ lesson, we will simply be reviewing Shrinking Solutions. We will start on antidotes next week." The class let out a sigh of relief and opened their books. At half past one, Harry emptied his cauldron, packed up his belongings, and strode out of the Potions room without saying a word. Time to go meet the Champions and the press. If he didn't know any better, he was looking forward to giving his first official interview.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First of all, I want to thank everyone for reviewing... 15 reviews already! Secondly, I'm still waiting for you guys to give me some ideas for Triwizard Tasks!**

**A/N 2: Sorry this took so long to upload, but it took FOREVER to write. I rewrote Harry's date with Aimee four times, and I'm still not happy with it. The action scene for the First Task was really fun to write and I hope you guys like it.**

**A/N 3: YAY! Finally learned how to use line breaks! They should make it easier for you guys to distinguish between scenes.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Harry had expected an ancient tradition like the Weighing of the Wands ceremony to be held with more pomp and circumstance than what he had seen so far. He had shown up nearly a quarter hour early, and he was still the final Champion to arrive. Cedric Diggory was interviewing with a middle aged witch wearing extremely tight fitting acid green robes. Krum was brooding in a corner, having chased away every reporter in the room. Fleur Delacour was surrounded by a flock of men who were staring at her with rapturous looks on their faces.

"Harry! Glad to see you could finally make it!" Harry turned and saw Ludo Bagman striding toward him, his generous girth straining his Wimbourne Wasps uniform. That guy seriously needs to learn how to let go, Harry thought as he stepped forward to shake Bagman's hand. The witch interviewing Diggory looked up sharply as she heard Harry's name. The young Gryffindor eyed her warily as she bustled over.

"Harry, meet Rita Skeeter. She's a reporter for the Daily Prophet." The reporter stretched out her hand, but Harry didn't take it.

"I've heard of her." He turned to Rita. "You got my best mate's dad in trouble with his boss."

Rita didn't bat an eye. "I only report the news, Harry. Don't blame me for doing my job."

"Your job is to skew the news to sell papers?" Harry asked heatedly. Bagman looked uncomfortable with the byplay and rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Yes," Rita said simply. "Journalism is a business, not a public service." While Harry still didn't like the woman, he could see her point. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"Well, this has been enlightening. Enjoy the ceremony," Harry said shortly, leaving both Ludo Bagman and Rita Skeeter staring at him. He hated people like Rita. She was the kind of person who let her ambition blind her to the people she stepped on while walking the path to success. Harry didn't even want to know how many careers Skeeters poisonous quill had ended; how many families her articles had torn apart. I'm going to end her, Harry decided. No matter what she says, papers like the Prophet have a moral obligation to do more than sell papers.

Harry was broken out of funk by a young witch jogging toward him. She was pretty, and Harry was sure he'd seen her before. "Penelope Clearwater, Teen Witch Weekly," the brunette introduced herself. That's how I know her. She's Percy's girlfriend.

"Harry Potter," Harry said unnecessarily. "How can I help you Miss Clearwater?"

"Well, TWW is running an article on the two teenage hunks from Hogwarts competing in the Triwizard Tournament. I was hoping to ask a few questions?" Her last statement was phrased like a question, so Harry took it as such.

"I don't see a problem with that. What do you want to know?"

Penelope looked at her notebook. "First of all, what was your reaction when you found out you were going to compete?"

Harry shrugged. "Honestly, I was surprised. However, I know what an honor this is and I will represent Hogwarts and England to the best of my ability."

Penelope looked shocked at his answer. "That's a very... Politically correct answer. Care to elaborate?"

"Not really. Next question?" Harry was hoping to avoid the 'Did you put your name in?' query that he was sure was coming. However, the young reporter caught him off balance.

"Who are you taking to the Yule Ball?"

"No one at the moment. I have my eye on a couple of girls, but there's nothing concrete yet."

Penelope nodded, making a note. "Well whoever she is, she is a lucky girl. Now, Cedric told me he's taking a Ravenclaw by the name of Cho Chang. My sources tell me that you've been harboring a crush for Ms Chang for a while now. Is there any jealousy between you and Cedric?"

Harry stared at Penelope. He had gone into this interview expecting nothing more than a fluff piece, but the reporter had very good sources within Hogwarts. Not many knew that he liked Cho, not that he really knew the Ravenclaw. He had noticed her during a Quidditch match the year before, and she hadn't really been far from his mind since. However, he'd never really had a conversation with her. Harry decided that it was time to get Penelope off her game.

"Your sources are exaggerating. I mention that I think she's pretty one time and suddenly I have a 'crush' on her. No offense against Ms Chang, but I don't think she's really my type."

Penelope recovered quickly. "And what exactly is your type, Harry?"

Harry gave her a sly grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He chuckled at Penelope's blush as he turned away. Ludo Bagman was calling for the Champions to line up and present their wands to Mr Olivander, who was going to be the "expert judge" that Bagman had mentioned. Harry took his position and waited for Olivander to test his wand. He wasn't surprised in the slightest at the revelation that Fleur's grandmother had been a Veela. In fact, he was more intrigued by the use of Veela hair as a wand core. He had always been under the impression that phoenix feathers, dragon heartstrings, and unicorn hairs were the only components that could be used. It suddenly occurred to him that if one could find a more powerful core, then perhaps it could be used to make a more powerful wand. He couldn't think of anything more magical than dragons, unicorns and phoenix, though. Perhaps Hermione might know, Harry mused, before remembering that Hermione was avoiding him at the moment.

Finally, Olivander tested his wand and found it in working order. The aged wand maker made some more comments shadowing the ones he had made when Harry had first met him. Harry tried to ignore the old man, pointedly not looking into his creepy, luminous eyes. After the Weighing, there was the obligatory photo shoot. After what seemed like ages, the room started to empty, and Harry made a quiet exit. After a quick dinner, he went up to the Gryffindor common room to get ready for his date.

* * *

An hour later, Harry was nervously pacing the Entrance Hall. He realized that it was a bad idea to show up fifteen minutes early, but pacing the Gryffindor common room hadn't been any better. Finally, the great wooden doors opened, and Aimee slipped inside. Harry's eyes bulged. While she had been beautiful in her periwinkle Beauxbatons robes, Aimee was stunning in a simple yellow sundress that showed off her long, tanned legs. She was showing off just enough cleavage to send his brain to the gutter, but was modest enough that he felt guilty for letting his mind go there. Her golden hair was down, flowing past her shoulders, and her makeup was of sufficient quality and quantity that it was difficult for him to tell if she was wearing any at all.

"Wow... um, you look amazing." Harry managed to stutter, trying to focus on her eyes and not her other... assets. Aimee looked at him appraisingly.

"You look nice yourself, 'Arry." Harry looked down at his simple blue button down shirt and jeans. He had picked up both during his trip to London, and it had taken some time to find clothes that fit his large frame.

"I guess," Harry laughed. He had the distinct impression that he was being tested, but he didn't know if he passed or failed. It might have helped if Harry had known what he was being tested on. Aimee just looked at him expectantly. "Oh! I guess you don't know where we're going. Let's go," He said, offering her his arm. She took it and Harry found that she had placed a Warming Charm around herself. I guess that explains how she's wearing a sundress in November.

He led her out of the Entrance Hall and towards the lake, chatting amiably about his day. Aimee seemed very interested in the Weighing of the Wands, especially his description of the interview he had given Penelope Clearwater.

"Do you 'ave to give a lot of interviews?" she asked.

"Not really. That was the first official interview of my life," Harry replied.

"Zat's good. I would hate to 'ave our date interrupted by some nosy reporter."

"Who said this was a date?" Harry laughed.

"I believe zat I just did." Aimee gave Harry a fake hurt look. "Unless you don't find me pretty enough?"

Harry gave her a sideways look. "Now you're just fishing for compliments."

"Maybe," Aimee allowed, "but zat doesn't mean you shouldn't give me one anyways." She gave him her most brilliant smile, momentarily stunning the young Gryffindor.

"Well you are very beautiful tonight," Harry said awkwardly as the young couple reached the lake.

"So where are you taking me?" Aimee queried as Harry started to lead her around the lake. She had taken Harry's hand in hers.

"Well, I want you to see Hogwarts the way I see it. I remember the first time I saw the school and I thought that you'd appreciate the view." They had arrived at a small alcove where Harry had left a small rowboat. After helping her step gingerly inside the boat, Harry settled in and grabbed the oars, his muscles flexing as he maneuvered it out onto the lake.

"I'm certainly enjoying the view now," Aimee flirted, her eyes on Harry's straining chest and shoulders. Harry replied with a laugh as the little boat glided over the lake. The air was silent and water still, reflecting the golden fire of the sunset perfectly.

"Duck your head," Harry said as they sailed under some low-hanging moss, and Aimee gasped as she did. There on the other side, across the fire-stained lake, was Hogwarts in all its glory. A few stars twinkled overhead, framing the turrets and towers of the ancient castle.

"'Arry, it is beautiful!" Aimee wondered, still unable to take her eyes off the gorgeous view. Who says I don't know how to treat a woman to a good time? He was as entranced with her beauty in the dimming light as she was with the view of the castle.

The two students glided beneath the stars, alternating between comfortable silence and light chit-chat. He learned that she was a sixth year at Beauxbatons, that her favorite color was lavender, and that her last name was Beaucort. He gave her a highly edited version of his childhood, not mentioning the cupboard under the stairs or the Dursley's cruelty. Instead he told her stories like turning his teacher's wig blue, using accidental magic to find himself on top of the kitchens, or accidentally siccing a snake on his unsuspecting cousin. Aimee found all of these stories highly entertaining and told him so. Finally, Harry beached the small rowboat, ensured Aimee kept her feet dry, and walked her back to the Beauxbatons carriage.

"I 'ave 'ad a very good time with you tonight, 'Arry. We should do zis again." She was fiddling with one of her golden locks, slowly twisting it around her finger.

"Does that mean you want to be my date to the Yule Ball?" Harry asked, suddenly very nervous.

"Only if you ask me properly," Aimee teased, giving Harry another dazzling smile.

"What? I already did!" Harry argued playfully.

"You most certainly did not. Zere is a proper way zat a gentleman asks a lady to a ball," she replied, taking a step toward him, leaving less than a foot between them. Harry was suddenly very aware of how big Aimee's eyes were and how soft her lips looked.

"Aimee Beaucort, would you honor me by accompanying me to the Yule Ball on Christmas Eve?" Harry asked, his voice coming out low and husky.

"I would be delighted to, 'Arry Potter." Her reply was formal, but her voice was anything but. Harry ducked his head, closing the distance between them as Aimee closed her eyes...

"Aimee Beacort! Where 'ave you been? We 'ave been looking everywhere for you!" The booming voice of Madame Maxime echoed as the door to the carriage burst open. The large woman gave Harry a stern look as she ushered Aimee inside.

"Goodnight, 'Arry," the young blonde waved as her headmistress slammed the door shut.

Harry had mixed feelings about the date as he made his way back up to the Gryffindor common room. Part of him was ecstatic that the date had gone so well, while a rather large part was disappointed that Madame Maxime had shown up when she did. If only I had made a move sooner, on the lake, then the night would have been perfect, Harry mused as he climbed into his four poster bed.

* * *

The last two weeks leading up to the First Task went by in a blur. Harry had received an invitation from Hagrid to visit after hours, but had been too swamped with homework to attend. He had wanted to do some training, but he didn't know what the Task was. Aimee had started to sit with him during meal times (which had done wonders for his table manners), and he had gotten to know her a little bit better. Apparently she was a Muggleborn, but her parents were quite wealthy; they owned an estate outside of Marseille. Her father had a hobby breeding horses, and Aimee's favorite thing to do during the summers was to ride them down the beach. (This bit of knowledge gave Harry some very interesting images in his head, but he wisely avoided mentioning them.) Harry often saw Ron glare angrily at him whenever he sat with the pretty blonde, and Hermione usually only spent a few minutes devouring food before sprinting off to the library. Harry had tried to corner her a couple of times, but both times she had given him the same 'I'm looking at a dead man walking' look and made polite conversation until he went away. Interestingly, Moody had kept him after class to talk about the Tournament and tried to give harry some advice. Harry had politely declined, saying that a Potter doesn't cheat his way to victory. The grizzled wizard had seemed both taken aback and angry at Harry's tone, but just dismissed him with a wave of one gnarled hand. Harry had also written to Sirius, but Hedwig hadn't brought him a reply.

Finally, the morning of the 15th dawned and Harry was rudely awakened by the buzzing of his wand. Groggily, he showered and changed into his Quidditch leathers. He figured that the uniform would afford him better range of movement than his flowing school robes. The last thing he wanted to do was trip over the hem and make a fool of himself in front the entire audience (especially Aimee). Just thinking about her made the knot of nervous tension in his chest recede. After running a hand through his messy hair, Harry headed down to eat a hearty breakfast. He wanted to be on top of his game this morning, so he piled his plate high with eggs, bacon and toast, wolfing it down hungrily. Aimee eyed him warily, but didn't say anything. Eventually McGonogall had informed him that it was time to depart to the grounds for the First Task, and Harry reluctantly left his half finished food. Aimee squeezed his hand, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek for luck, and told him that she would be rooting for him.

As Harry followed McGonogall, he couldn't help but notice that she kept giving him the same look that Hermione did. Her face was pale, and she seemed to be on the verge of saying something. However, before she could, they had reached a large Coliseum type structure, complete with two pavilions off to the side. McGonogall led him to entrance of the large pavilion, gave him a strangled "Good luck, Mr Potter," and strode away without looking back.

Harry was getting a very bad feeling. Hermione was one thing; she overreacted all the time. McGonogall, however, was normally unflappable. Seeing the elderly matron so upset was making Harry more than just a little nervous. Shrugging, Harry ducked into the tent, noticing that he was (once again) the last Champion present. Guess that makes me fashionably late, Harry thought as he sat beside Diggory. The Hufflepuff was also wearing his Quidditch uniform, and gave the younger Gryffindor a quick smile.

"So did you notice anything off about McGonogall this morning?" Harry asked the older teen.

"Not really, but I didn't really have a chance to talk with her. Sprout seemed really upset when she walked me down here, though. I think she wanted to tell me about the task, but I didn't let her." Harry nodded. His esteem of Diggory had gone up. Apparently the 'Puff lived up to the fair-mindedness of his house. Harry turned his attention to the last two Champions. Both Delacour and Krum were ignoring the Hogwarts students, apparently lost in their own world. Fleur was ashen faced and Krum (being Krum) was brooding as far away from the other Champions as possible. Harry had the distinct impression that both of the foreigners knew exactly what the First Task was and already had a plan to beat it. Before he could voice his opinions to Cedric, Ludo Bagman squeezed through the entrance flap of the pavilion, followed by Barty Crouch. Harry was still thrown by seeing the uptight crouch in robes. He should definitely stick to suits.

"Gentlemen and lady! Welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Mr. Crouch and I will be explaining the Task and the rules." The large man brandished a small, cloth bag. "Each of you will take one item from this bag, representing the creature you will face and the order you will face them in. Ladies first," Bagman said, offering the bag to Fleur. She reluctantly slipped her dainty hand into the bag and removed a miniature green dragon. Around it's neck it had a tag with a large number "2."

Harry and Cedric's mouths dropped open. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," Harry said, his eyes focused on Fleur's dragon. Cedric echoed the Gryffindor's astonishment. Bagman, ignoring them, turned to Krum. Krum put his hand into the bag and drew out a miniature red dragon, emblazoned with the number "3." Krum just nodded and went back to sulking, which confirmed that he had indeed known what the Task would be ahead of time. Cedric was next, drawing a black dragon that was coated with spikes and had the number "4" around it's neck. Finally, Harry pulled out what looked to be a grown up version of Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback that had a number "1." Mr. Crouch stood in the middle of the pavilion, eyeing each of the Champions in turn. "Your task is to retrieve the Golden Egg. We will sound a whistle when we are ready for you," he said shortly, before crisply turning on his heel and exiting the tent. Bagman gave them all a cheery wave and followed his comrade.

Harry was quickly going over everything he knew about dragons. Their only weak spot was their eyes, but Harry didn't have any idea how he was going to get close enough to actually shoot the dragon in the eye with a stunner or the Conjunctivitis Curse. Harry was broken out of his thoughts by a sharp whistle barely five minutes after the two judges had left. Harry stood to leave. Cedric, looking both relieved at not going first and worried about Harry, clasped the Gryffindor on the shoulder and wished him luck. Harry gave him a nod and walked out of the pavilion and into the coliseum.

The entire stadium erupted into cheers as Harry entered, but he tried to tune out both them and Ludo Bagman's magnified voice as he focused on the field in front of him. There were several rocks placed strategically throughout that Harry deemed suitable for cowering from dragon fire. The dragon itself was on the other end of the arena, eyeing him warily. It had a chain around its neck, hindering its movement and between its massive rear legs was a small clutch of eggs. One of them was made of gold. Well, I have two options. I can either distract it or face it head on. Harry couldn't think of anything that might distract the beast (except for maybe a large cow), so he decided to opt for plan number two. I need to get close enough to shoot it in the eye with a stunner.

Suddenly, it came to him. Harry grabbed two loose stones from the ground and transfigured one of them into a sword and the other into a large shield bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms. Sliding his wand into his wrist sheathe, Harry drew the sword from its scabbard, hefted his shield, and charged at the dragon in a full sprint.

The crowd gasped as the dragon took a deep breath and exhaled a jet of fire straight at the young Gryffindor, but Harry knelt behind his conjured shield. The magical fire heated the shield to almost unbearable temperatures, burning Harry's arm through his Quidditch leathers. Flames licked around the edges of the shield as well, scorching his chest and legs. Just as Harry thought he couldn't stand the heat anymore, the flames abruptly died. Tossing the ruined shield to the ground, Harry resumed his mad sprint towards the dragon. Again the dragon shot flames at him, but this time Harry rolled to the side and continued forward. There! Just in front of her! Harry thought wildly as he noticed a group of large boulders directly in front of the beast. Harry leapt atop the nearest stone, ducked beneath a wild swing of the dragon's massive claws, and leapt from his perch straight at the dragon's skull, trying to grasp onto one of the horns jutting out from the side of its head.

I did it! Harry exulted as he felt his fingers wrap around the dragon's horn. Almost immediately, the dragon started shaking its head wildly, trying to rid itself of the unwanted hitchhiker. Harry almost lost his grip, but managed to stabilize himself by shoving his sword deep into the soft flesh behind the dragon's jaw. The dragon roared in pain and fury, and swatted at the raven haired Gryffindor like a man might do to a particularly annoying fly. Harry let go of both of his handholds just before he was squished, but landed badly on his right leg and felt his knee wrench. Gasping in pain, Harry drew his wand and looked up at the dragon. He had planned on climbing on top of the beast's head and shooting it in the eye from there, but he knew that he had missed his chance. Now, with a bum leg, there was no way he would be able to climb back up.

The dragon, while trying to swat Harry, had driven his conjured sword into it's own neck clear to its hilt, causing the massive creature to howl in pain. Harry looked up, knowing he had precious few moments before the dragon's attention returned to the annoying bug beneath it. He cast every spell he could think of at the dragon's underbelly, but everything just ricocheted off. It was no use. Even with the extra knowledge and power that the Goblet had given him, Harry's spells couldn't penetrate the dragon's magic-proof hide.

FUCK! Harry thought as the dragon once again gave him its full attention. Harry was lying on his back, staring eye to eye with a rather large, rather intimidating dragon. Suddenly, Harry caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He barely managed to roll away as the beast slammed one of it's giant claws into the ground where he had been just a moment before. Twice more the dragon tried to grind the young man into the ground, but Harry was just a little bit quicker. However, the dragon finally managed to pin Harry's cloak beneath one of its enormous talons, effectively pinning the Gryffindor in place. Harry desperately tried to wrench his cloak free from the dragon's grasp to no avail. Harry looked up as he saw the dragon prepare to engulf him in flames. Time seemed to slow down as Harry looked into the golden eyes of his killer. His ears were ringing, he could barely hear the crowd screaming in shock and horror. He saw the dragon handlers hurrying into the arena, but he knew that they would be too late.

Suddenly, a female voice cut through the ringing in his ears. "'Arry! Ze sword!"

Harry's eyes snapped to the sword hilt jutting from the beast's neck. He may not be able to affect the dragon with his spells, but his conjured sword had no such protections. Aiming his wand, Harry cast the most powerful Engorgement Charm he could at the sword hilt and watched in awe as it quickly doubled, then tripled in size. With a loud squishing noise, the blade, now over three feet wide and twelve feet long, emerged from the opposite side of the dragon's neck. What seemed like buckets of blood rained down on Harry, who used his good leg to scoot himself away from the dying creature. Finally, the beast fell heavily to the rocky ground, its head landing not a foot away from the shocked Gryffindor.

Harry looked into the creature's eyes as it struggled to breath, and couldn't help but feel both angry and saddened at being forced to slay such a noble creature. He reached out his hand and touched the dragon's heaving flank, whispering calming words as he dispelled the sword's transfiguration. With a flash of light, the enlarged sword was once again a fist sized stone that fell to ground and was quickly engulfed in a pool of blood. The hole in the dragon's neck, however, remained. I'm so sorry, Harry thought, wiping away a tear as the beast took one last shuddering breath. The dragon was dead.

Harry finally noticed that the crowd had gone deathly silent. Even Ludo Bagman was uncharacteristically speechless as the young man gingerly got to his feet and limped to the clutch of eggs that the dragon had died defending. Not even attempting to bite back his anger, Harry grasped the Golden Egg in both hands and lifted it above his head.

"Are you not entertained?!" the Gryffindor yelled defiantly.

The crowd exploded into cheers.

* * *

**A/N: I couldn't help but quote the movie Gladiator there at the end... It just seemed to fit. Now, stay in tune for the next chapter, which will have the fallout from the First Task, the entirety of the Second Task, and the Yule Ball!**


End file.
